


That Gentle Wonder

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Doting brothers, Fluff, Gen, Upsetting the family cat, cocoa, fireside reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 00:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Dick can't help but wonder at his little brother's progress. He can't help but dote on him either.





	That Gentle Wonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CamsthiSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/gifts).



Dick found Damian on the floor. He was seated with his back against the couch, instead of being on it, with a book in his hands and Alfred the cat curled on a blanket draped over his lap. A fire burned, crackling and popping with merry abandon in front of him. Damian’s socked feet poked out from under the blanket aimed towards the fire.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dick said, stepping inside, “What cha doing?”

Damian’s eyes flicked up from the book for a moment before returning to the page to continue reading. Dick watched for a moment as green eyes took in a line of text and slipped to the next. When he didn’t speak, Dick realized Damian had given him the look as an answer. A silent ‘ _is it not obvious, Grayson_?’  It did not answer why he was on the floor, but then again Dick hadn’t asked that. Damian rarely answered an unasked question. He did what he did, and asked no one for permission or understanding.

If their positions had been switched Dick would have started talking the moment Damian stepped inside, a look of curious disdain on the kid’s face that translated as ‘I want to ask, but I have a reputation of not caring to uphold.’ Dick would never make Damian ask, or force him to come up with a snide comment meant to tease the information out. He’d give it freely and easily, filling Damian’s head with reasons for his floor adventure without a second thought, inviting him to join him by his side. 

Damian's invitation was a silent one. Like his look. The lack of dismissal was a promise that he did not mind Dick's presence, even if he was unwilling to share what was on his mind right away. And yet. There were times Damian was a fountain of information. Not always with words. Like when he’d found a new pet, and his first action was to drag Dick to it's location. Or when Dick had been gone a long time, Damian sitting Dick down and forcing him to share everything that had happened with patient hmms and tiny smiles. Or those moments when Dick would get a phone call, the line abuzz with Damian's delight after he and Bruce had had one of their breakthroughs, a quiet night together or Damian convincing the man to take him somewhere instead of going to work. He bubbled with the information,wanting to make sure Dick knew every major event in his life. Like he was making up for the time they’d both been gone, trying to fill in the blank edges with new information.

Dick stepped over and set the mugs of cocoa he was carrying on a table beside them before he let himself fall to the ground, back bouncing against the couch and upsetting Damian’s own stillness. His brother grunted, not unlike his father, and turned a page.

So many things about Damian were like Bruce. There was a point while they’d been partners, living at the penthouse, that Dick had wondered if any of Talia was even in Damian. Then, of course, Damian had reacted to something with a tilt of the head so like her Dick had almost laughed at his own naiveté.

Dick reached up and pulled down both mugs of cocoa gently bumping shoulders with Damian, leaning just enough so that they were touching.

“I brought you some cocoa.” Dick said. 

This rewarded him with a brief smile from Damian, as the cocoa was exchanged. Then Damian returned to the story. Dick sipped his own, craning his head to read the words of the book, a collection of Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Damian was in the middle of  _ The Adventure of the Speckled Band _ .

“You told me you hated reading mysteries.”

“I hate the mysteries you read, they are too easy to figure out.” Damian said, before drinking from his mug, “Doyle is a master of the art.”

“Doyle doesn’t give you a clue to go on.” Dick told him.

Damian didn’t take his bait, instead continuing to read.

Alfred yawned and lifted his head to look at Dick, as if he were berating him for coming in and disturbing the silence punctuated only by the rustle of pages. In response, Dick stuck his tongue out at the cat. He hadn’t seen Damian all day, their schedules keeping them separate. It wasn’t like Dick couldn’t see him later, or even the next day. He was home for a week at least, a planned visit he was enjoying to its fullest, despite the surprise snowstorm keeping them from doing everything he'd planned. Most of all, none of that meant he didn’t want to spend time with his youngest brother, and he wasn’t going to let a cat dictate if he did or not. He wasn’t going to let Sherlock Holmes do so either. Even if it meant sitting by Damian until he was done reading.

His brother’s warmth was seeping into his arm, a heat more comforting than the fire before them. One that almost begged Dick to pull him into a hug. He didn’t, not wanting to ruin the moment and send Damian stomping away to find a ‘quieter, less Grayson filled zone’ to read. He wanted to enjoy Damian’s presence. To savor the fact that a few years ago this would have been impossible.  When he had first arrived, Damian had not been prone to touch. Had refused it unless it was absolutely necessary or he was unconscious. Hand shakes, fist bumps, even an approving hand to the shoulder were met with impatience, and on a few occasions a literal attack. 

Dick was so proud of how far his brother had come. 

Proud of the way he’d learned to accept affection. Of how he’d begun to open his heart to people. His family, and even friends, like Jon. Of the tiny gifts Damian shared with the world. Gifts of service to his family. Music drifting through the halls. His soft voice, and gentle hands when they found a kid in the middle of trouble. 

He was still fire and fury and burning anger, but it was directed. Like a flame lit to light the darkness. A tiny burning sun that gave life and lit the way for the hope of new things. 

“Dames.” Dick said. 

Something in his voice must have caught Damian’s attention because he lifted his eyes, bleary from reading, and turned his head to look at Dick. He didn’t even think about it, reaching forward to lightly hit the top of Damian’s head with his fist. A bonk. A bump. A tap to the head.  

The boy froze for a second before squawking a high pitched inhalation of breath. Dick knew the only thing that saved him from his brother starting a wrestling match was the cat firmly planted in Damian’s lap. He  grinned, knowing full well he’d been spared only for the moment. 

“What,” Damian seethed, “was that for?”

“You are adorable.” Dick answered, his grin turning into an actual smile. 

Again this took Damian by surprise, the irritation on his face draining into confusion. Before he could process it further Dick did it again, fist bopping his brother’s head gently. 

“Adorable when you’re angry.” Dick smirked. 

The noise and Damian’s stiffening at Dick’s attention seemed to be too much for Alfred. The cat hopped off Damian’s lap with a swish of his tail and padded out of the room, not bothering to look back at either of them. Damian shot Dick a glare at the upset. Dick ignored it, setting his cocoa safely on the table above them before reaching out to scoop Damian up, tucking him into his own lap, and adjusting the blanket so it covered them both. 

Damian squirmed, “What has gotten into you, Richard?” he said, pushing at Dick’s arms. 

Dick nuzzled his face into Damian’s hair, “This is my apology for scaring away your cat.” 

It was not an apology, it was an excuse. And excuse to hold Damian close, and feel his warmth pressed against Dick’s chest. To take advantage of the miracle that was Damian allowing himself to be held. To savor a moment that proved Dick had done something right when they’d been partners. That he’d cracked the hard shell Damian had built around himself and found a way in to the child hiding beneath. 

“Depositing me in your lap does not make up for bothering Alfred.” Damian said, but he’d stopped fighting him, moving now to find a more comfortable way to sit against Dick’s chest and adjusting the blanket, folding it down so it only rested across his legs. 

“You are too hot.” Damian complained.  

“Excuse you, I’m just the right amount of hot.” Dick responded, “Everyone says so.” 

Damian huffed, “That is  _ not  _ what I meant.” 

Dick reached out, snatched up Damian’s cocoa and pressed it into his brother’s hands, “Drink your chocolate. I’ll finish reading.” 

He retrieved the book from where it had fallen when he’d lifted Damian, opening it to the last page he’d seen his brother on. He started reading at the top of the page, “What do you make of that, Watson?” he read, giving Holmes a deep gravelly voice, “It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.” his Watson was higher pitched, and smoother. 

“Do not do the voices.” Damian interrupted.

“You don’t like them?” Dick asked leaning to look down at Damian. 

His brother tilted his head up to roll his eyes at him, “This is a serious story, Richard.” 

Dick grinned, and leaned forward to kiss Damian’s forehead, “Alright.” he said, settling back against the couch, “No voices then. All you get is my most serious reading voice, pray it doesn’t lull you to sleep.”  


End file.
